Kisses Lemons
by RadiantEmpire
Summary: Alfred bought Seventeen. Rumors say kisses taste like lemon...?


Redone: corrected some errors and what not.

Do please rate and review, everyone.

The characters Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland belong to their creator, Hima-papa.

England and America belong to the world.

/Based on a doujin./

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><p>'<em>Stupid Alfred. Take that. And that. Ha. I just shot you in the face, you git. That's what you get for-' <em>The British gentleman sat, cross-legged on the floor. His interest was completely inside of the game that he was playing. He hated the stupid American's bloody video games. Though, he figured, he was pretty good at them. This zombie game, in particular.

Alfred was not too far off. He was seated on his on his bed, flipping through the pages of a girl's magazine. He bought _Seventeen_ at a local newsstand, and was completely into it now. It was a recent issue, stealing what was hot in New York for the summer (no pun intended). He was always curious about the difference between boys in girls, and he was going to find out what it is.

Alfred sighed from his perch on the bed. The magazine made no sense to him at all. He stopped flipping through the pages when he saw actual words. It was a rumor page. The American was immediately intrigued. Maybe this magazine had some good stuff in it. He needed dirt on Germany. Lots of dirt. _'Kisses taste like lemon,' _he blinked. He lifted the magazine just enough to cover a small grin that nobody could even see. "Hey Arthur."

"Ha, ha. Haha. Suck on that, Alfred…" Arthur mumbled to himself as his small character unloaded a full-on shotgun blast into a zombie's face. He could feel the largest of grins on his face; so large it made his jaw feel rather painful.

"Arthur…"

His smile died down as he told himself that he would never be able to possibly shoot Alfred in the face. Or anywhere, as a matter of fact.

"Arthur."

He knew that Alfred knew that the Brit would never, ever be able to do such a thing. He hated-

"Arthur, hey, Arthur!" Alfred called for the third time.

The Englishman blinked, finally snapped out of his reverie. He continued to play the stupid game. "What is it, Alfred?"

The American stared at Arthur's back for a bit before opening the magazine up again. "So, in this magazine, it says right here," he looked down and pointed at the page even though he knew that Arthur wasn't even looking. "It says, that 'kisses taste like lemon.' Is that true?"

Arthur furrowed his thick brow. "Lemon?" He turned and stared at Alfred, finding that Alfred was already looking at him. He could instantly feel his face flush. He continued to stare into the cerulean hues.

Hearing his character making sounds of pain, he quickly turned his attention back to the television. "Ah, bloody-" He sighed. "Damn it. I died…" he said quietly as he set the controller down. He merely watched on as a zombie dog tore his character to pieces. "Anyway, you should know what kisses taste like. I used to kiss you all the time."

"Yeah, but that was when I was little," the American frowned.

"A kiss is a kiss, Alfred," the Brit replied, trying so hard not to remember the past. "It never changes."

"Yeah they do. There's a difference between child kisses, and adult kisses."

Arthur brought a palm to his face and sighed. He stood from his spot on the floor and walked over to the bed. "Let me see this stupid thing…" he said, taking the magazine and reading it over. "Pfft. You actually read this tripe?" he asked, shaking his head. He looked at the cover before looking back at Alfred. "_Seventeen Magazine?_ Really, Alfred? Really?" He tossed the magazine back at the blond.

"Well? Do they?" Alfred asked, catching the magazine and setting it on the floor.

"The only possible thing that I could think of that would make a kiss taste like lemon is if someone ate something that tastes like lemon, or eating an actual lemon itself," Arthur said, thoughtfully. "Like you. I bet that you taste like coke or burgers and the like," he teased, a small smirk coming to his face as he saw the wonder in Alfred's face.

"So then you would taste like Black tea?" Alfred asked/said, a sly looking gracing his features.

"How redi-" Arthur was going to retort, but he caught Alfred's look. He felt his heart race. _'Where the-where did he learn that look?'_He asked himself. He could feel his face heat up again. "Ha." He let out a nervous laugh. "You're still as stupid as ever, Alfred." Arthur quickly looked away.

"Arthur, give me an adult kiss," Alfred said.

"W-what? Are you mad?" He asked. He kept his eyes averted-_Oh, how he wished he could…_-"Why now? I gave you adult kisses when you were a child. A cute child, I might add. I really can't fathom just where exactly I went wrong with you, honestly."

"Those were not adult kisses. You'd like, kiss my cheek, or my forehead," he pouted. "I want you to kiss my lips. Like adults do."

"A-Alfred, stop acting like an idiot. You know what an adult kiss is. Surely you've kissed someone before."

Alfred ruffled his own hair. "I haven't, actually…"

Arthur laughed-More so to rid himself of his own anxiety-and began to walk to the door. "Its not like anyone would kiss you anyway…"

Alfred quickly grabbed the other, pulling him back onto the bed.

"Alfred, what are-" Arthur placed his hands in front of him; a defensive move, really.

Alfred quickly grabbed Arthur's hands and moved them aside.

"Alf-" Arthur looked straight into that blue he loved as Alfred locked lips with him. His attempt at "fighting back" went away almost instantly, and he eased himself into the kiss, returning it slowly.

"You would," Alfred said quietly as after pulling away. "And you do taste like lemons."

Arthur stared. "What."

"You really do, honest to God," Alfred said from his spot above the Brit.

"How is that even-Oh. Wait. No. Remember? I had some lemon tea earlier…the one I forced you to buy?" Arthur barely managed to say. He was in his thoughts. He could taste Alfred on his lips. He didn't taste like soda or burgers at all.

It was quiet as Alfred went for another kiss. Arthur obliged, having wanted to kiss the American in such a way for the longest of times. He could feel Alfred's hands run along his chest. He paid attention to every bit of his body.

He wanted it. But he also enjoyed what he already had with Alfred. He could be happy just seeing the other. This could possibly ruin it. It would ruin it.

He stopped himself. He pushed at Alfred's shoulders. "No, Alfred, stop…" Arthur said slowly, yet sternly.

The blonde stopped moving. "W-what?"

"Just stop. We shouldn't," Arthur whispered.

"But…Well. Why? Don't you want to?"

'_Oh, how I want to so badly, Alfred…How badly I want you.'_ Arthur thought, but he shook his head slowly. He moved away from the American.

"Okay," Alfred said, his tone rather happy. He lifted the magazine from the floor and opened it up again.

The Brit sat quietly on the edge of the bed, fixing his shirt, his vest, his hair. His face was turned away from the American. He kept his hand over his face, wanting to rid himself of the red coloring that surely spanned his entire face. His eyes stung, tears threatening to pour out. He hated the way he was being at the moment. He nearly jumped when he felt weight against him.

Alfred had pressed himself to Arthur's back. He held the magazine in front of the male. "You know, Arthur, this magazine, right here," he started, pointing at the page. "Nothing ever gets ruined if you're meant to be with someone. Even if it's with someone you already have something special with. If anything, you just end up feeling even more in love." Alfred smiled before kissing Arthur's cheek. "That love never goes away, babe."

Arthur felt an immense guilt. "But…"

Alfred actually remained silent for once.

Arthur sighed lightly and leaned into his American.

The American blinked. "Does this mean I can keep going?" He asked.

England sighed angrily and moved away from America. "Alf-America, you-You stupid, ignorant, idiotic, moronic git! Learn how to read the god damn atmosphere!" He walked over to the game console and took his previous seat. He took up the controller and started playing the zombie game again. He sat, his back rigid; his shoulders tense.

America sat on his bed, leaning against the wall with a soft smile on his face. He looked at the door, and at the small trash can beside it. He rolled up the magazine and tossed it in a basketball-esque fashion. The magazine hit the wall, and slid right into the trash can. He looked back at Arthur. "Hey Arthur."

" 'the bloody hell do you want?" Arthur asked. He was going on a killing spree.

"You know that I love you, right?" Alfred asked. He continued to smile at Arthur's back.

Arthur stared at the screen, wide-eyed.

"I really do."

Arthur let his shoulders relax. He too now had a smile. "Yeah, I know."


End file.
